


Beautiful Trauma

by TookMeASecond



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, M/M, Mentions of Dean/OFC, Rimming, Song fic, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, canon AU, mentionsl of John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TookMeASecond/pseuds/TookMeASecond
Summary: Prompt:In specific, I always thought the Pink song “Beautiful Trauma” captures the glorious co-dependent desperate love the Winchester boys have for each other.  In particular, the below section of the song is their relationship in a nutshell.  If you write me a Wincest fic inspired by this song, I will love you forever.





	Beautiful Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I took some liberty with this, but the prompt was a bit vague, which gave me more to work with ;) I have been intrigued by song fics for a while but haven't completed one till now. Requests are welcome.

_ We were on fire _

 

This was just like his older brother.  He'd stopped calling Dean “big brother” since he could look him in the eye.  Apparently, according to his brother and his dad he was old enough to take care of himself; just not on a hunt.  What the fuck did they expect him to do? It was summer and they'd moved around so much he didn't have any friends in the area.

 

He stalked back and forth across the livingroom of the tiny house his dad had rented, seething.  Dad took off a few days ago with a list of things for Dean to do and instructions on where to meet up when the list was done.  Dean was up in their room, door locked, packing hex bags or some other shit. Sam was seeing red.

 

_ I slashed your tires _

 

The next time he spun on his heel to storm back across the room his eye caught on Dean's knife.  Just sitting on the worn down coffee table. Sam narrowed his eyes at it, then up the small staircase.  He could make it so Dean had to stay. If he couldn't go then neither could his brother.

 

As if in a time warp he found himself outside next to the Impala.  His hesitancy to go through with it should have kept him from doing so but he was beyond rational thought at this point.  Sam knelt in the soft damp dirt and gripped the Bowie tight, the other hand braced on the black metal.

 

Another skip in time.  He couldn't get the blade out of the deflated rubber.  His anger started to cool as his panic rose, like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

_ It's like we burn so bright, we burn out _

_ I made you chase me _

_ I wasn't that friendly _

_ My love, my drug, we're fucked up, oh _

 

The voice alone rekindled everything he'd been angsting about.  He released his grip on the knife handle and shot to his feet. Sam reeled on Dean with his reaffirmed, white hot anger and shoved him as hard as he could.  The only reason his brother stumbled back being that he hadn't expected that from Sam.

 

“What are  _ you _ doing?”  It wasn't really a question.  “You both wanna preach to me how you don't leave family behind, but you just mean when it serves you, right?  You can leave me behind!” The shocked look on Dean's face only lasted a moment, then he set his jaw and tipped his chin up, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“It's for your-”

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Dean!  We've been through the same training.  You've been hunting since you were fucking twelve!”  Now Dean looked angry.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  Slashing my tire, which you'll pay for, this bratty fucking attitude.  Real mature, Sammy.” Sam growled and charged his brother, knocking him aside with a forearm to the chest.  “Hey! Where are you going?” Dean yelled after him with his arms held out.

 

“Fix the tire, Dean.  I'm going to pack.” Dean almost didn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in his chest.  The nerve of this fucking kid. He was up the porch steps in a flash, right on Sam's tail through the door.

 

“You listen here, you little bitch,” Dean grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt collar and made a move to slam him into the wall.  But Sam was quick. He managed to duck out and throw his shirt so Dean hit where Sam was supposed to. Then he was back out the front door and into the woods next to the house.

 

Sam could hear his heart pounding in his ears, or was that his feet in the dirt?  He knew Dean was following, but he didn't dare to look. Even a fraction of a second could lose him his advantage, Dean was fast.  And Sam wound up tripping anyway.

 

He hit the ground hard, even slid a few inches before the full weight of his solid brother landed on his back.  Dean let up enough to roll Sam onto his back and pressed back in, using a hold Dad had taught them.

 

“You've got a lot of nerve lately, kid.  Wanna know why Dad takes me and not you? Huh?”  Sam struggled to shove Dean off his chest. “Because I fucking listen!”

 

“Yeah,” Sam grunted out, “the good little soldier, huh, Dean?”  This time Dean growled as he pulled his knees up to straddle Sam's waist.  He gripped Sam's shoulders in his hands and pulled, then slammed him back down.

 

“Fuck you, Sam!  He keeps us alive!” Dean growled out, holding his kid brother to the forest floor.  Sam struggled, slammed fists into the inside of Dean's elbows and thrashed his body.  When he couldn't gain any leverage he went limp, the both of them panting in the dark.

 

“No, Dean.  You do. You've always kept us alive.  And you keep leaving me behind.” Actually at a loss for words Dean's face went neutral, but he didn't let up his hold.  It was a long moment before they spoke again.

 

“Sammy-.”  Dean paused and released the grip he had on Sam's shoulders, putting his hands in the loamy earth on either side of his head instead.  “What are we doin’, man? We're supposed to be a team. How did we get here?” Sam finally met his brother's eyes. They weren't angry anymore, which only made Sam's water.

 

“Please, don't leave me again.  You're all I have.” Sam prayed he wasn't being too vulnerable, Dean didn't do well with that shit.  Sam didn't realize his eyes had spilled over until Dean reached up to wipe the wet trail with the backs of his fingers, probably smearing dirt.

 

“Okay, Sam.”  Two simple words, whispered so quietly he almost missed them.  Sam surged up to hug his brother but found their lips pressed together instead.  It's not what he meant to do, but it sure as hell is what he wanted. He'd only kissed a couple girls before, and they had fumbled through it just as much as he had.  It was only a press of lips, no movement; and it took a couple seconds to realize Dean wasn't pulling away.

 

_ ‘Cause I've been on the run so long they can't find me _

_ You're waking up to remember I'm pretty _

_ And when the chemicals leave my body _

_ Yeah, they're gonna find me in a hotel lobby _

 

It seemed like forever since Dean had touched him.  Intimately or not. There were the four months his brother spent in hell.  He was pretty messed up after that. Then he found out about the demon blood, and looked at Sam like he was the monster.  A bunch of shit went down and they managed to come back to each other. Just in time for Sam to do his own little stint in hell.

 

When he woke up, alone, in that field it had made the most sense to leave Dean to Lisa.  They seemed to be good for each other, or Lisa was good for Dean. Better than Sam could be.

 

So maybe the amount of time they'd lost to their own arrogance and stupidity could be classified as forever.  But Sam had his shoulder back. Dean had his brother back. And they were smiling at each other again.

 

_ Mm, tough _

_ Times they keep comin’ _

_ All night _

_ Laughin’ and fuckin’ _

_ Some days like I'm barely breathin’ _

_ After we were high and the love dope died it was you _

 

Falling back into bed with Dean was like riding a bicycle.  It nearly felt just like the first time. Angst, proclamation of love (don't call it that in front of Dean), unhealthy incestuous relationship.  They knew they were fucked up. But like with so many other things they just didn't give a fuck.

 

Besides, Dean ate ass like it was his damn job.

 

They were in their hotel room, had just kicked the girl out.  Sam knew Dean still liked to chase pussy every now and then, and Sam liked to watch.  He just didn't want Dean to come. His brother would get the girl off a few times and give her the boot.  Nicely.

 

Once she was gone Sam would fall to his knees and clean her juices off Dean's cock, wipe away any trace of anyone else in their bed.  Then Dean would lay him on his back, or bend him over a table, and go to town.

 

He would take his time opening Sam with his tongue, then fingers.  It felt like they'd go at it like that for hours before Dean would crawl up his body and share the flavor of the night and  _ Sam. _  They would fuck each other's mouths while Dean pressed his aching cockhead against Sam's hole.  Dean loved taking his time, showed a surprising patience with it.

 

When he would finally get to a point where he could fuck Sam without any discomfort he let loose.  Like a dog being let off his leash, or a coin being shoved into a ‘magic fingers bed’. It was sudden and brutal.  And Sam loved every fucking second of it.

 

Dean would edge him seamlessly.  Rocking his hips at the perfect angle only to sit up and throw one of Sam's legs over his shoulder to start pounding at a new one.  His perfect mouth spewed the dirtiest words, pushing Sam closer to the edge. He would keep changing it up, manhandling Sam with ease, trying to get him to come on his cock.  And sometimes he did.

 

Those were the best.

 

When he couldn't Dean would wait until he was close, just at that precipice, then grip Sam's cock in his fist and jack him off with precision only Dean could pull off.  The perfect pressure matched with the right speed and it usually only took a few tugs until he was screaming his brother's name and coming all over whatever surface they were on.

 

In these instances Sam's release always set Dean's off right behind him.  His hips would stutter but his hand kept perfect rhythm, drawing both their orgasms out.

 

They may still argue, especially on a case.  But they both knew they were in this together.  They were all either of them had.

 

_ The pill I keep takin’ _

_ The nightmare I wake in _

_ There's nothin’, no nothin’, nothin’ but you _

_ My perfect rock bottom _

_ My beautiful trauma _

_ My love, my love, my drug, oh _

 

He did it again.  He did it a- _ fucking _ -gain!  He went off with  _ Crowley, _ of all fucking people, and made a decision on his own that would affect the both of them.  How many times had they promised never again? They promised they wouldn't do this to each other.

 

Sam was so angry for a while he wouldn't let Dean near him, let alone touch him.  Sure, Abaddon was gone. But they could have figured something else out. They'd still had time.

 

Dean kept trying to blame his moodiness on the fact Sam was distant but he'd done his own research on the mark.  He knew Dean would only get worse no matter what Sam did. Until he got rid of the mark.

 

_ You punched a hole in _

_ The wall and I framed it _

_ I wish I could feel things like you _

 

It was like Sam's unrealized, God damned nightmare come true.  Dean was dead. He'd watched him, held him, felt him take his last breath.  And that asshole angel just walked away. Like it was nothing. Like Sam's life hadn't just been extinguished by his hand.

 

In a role reversal from a lifetime ago he carried Dean out of that dingy warehouse and laid him in bed.  He couldn't build a pyre, not yet. He had to figure something out. They had too much at their disposal for this to be the end.  He wouldn't let it.

 

Then he'd cursed his own stupidity.  He'd dragged Dean through the mud only to make the same mistake.  Now his brother's body was gone. A note left in his place.

 

“Sammy, let me go”

 

Like fucking hell.

 

It wasn't until he saw his brother's eyes go black in that video surveillance that his own blood ran cold.  His armpits prickled and his brow dampened with sweat. Some soulless piece of shit was using his brother as a meat suit.  He still couldn't bring himself to wish he'd burned the body.

 

Learning that Dean was, in fact, a demon and not a meat suit was a hard pill to swallow.  He couldn't be exorcised. He had to be cured. Sam could do that, he just had to find him.

 

The hunt for Dean was long and arduous.  He managed to make a mistake, a stupid mistake, and found himself captured by someone also looking for Dean.  Sam tried to talk to him, tried to tell him to back off. The guy didn't know any better. Sam could take a lot, but this guy was skilled.  Which should have tipped him off to the trail, but Sam had tunnel vision at this point. He was lucky he didn't get himself killed.

 

He even managed to save that same guy later on.  Got his brother into the Impala and made the trek home to begin the process of curing him.  Dean was less than cooperative, which was a secret relief. He could see pieces of his headstrong brother in this abomination and hoped for the best in the end.

 

What he hadn't anticipated was Dean's humanization weakening the hold the sigiled cuffs had on him.  The chase through the bunker was the most terrifying moment of Sam's life. And he'd been through a lot of terrifying moments.  His brother taunted him. Described in detail how he would desecrate Sam's body and fill his meat suit with an accomplice.

 

Sam barely escaped a hammer to the head before Castiel saved the day, weak as the angel had become.  They got Dean back in worthy chains and continued the process.

 

_ Everyone's chasing _

_ That holy feeling _

_ And if we don't stay lit we'll blow out _

_ Blow out _

 

After Dean was de-deamon’d there wasn't much reprieve.  Removing the mark had its own consequences and Sam almost found himself paying the price.

 

You can't kill death,right?

 

Well, Dean Winchester didn't get that memo.

 

Dean put Sam on his knees.  Gave him some gallant speech.  Then told him to close his eyes.  Sam refused. If this was the end Dean, his brother, would be the last thing he saw.  Turns out it was a show. A power play. All a ploy to keep Death unsuspecting. Then The Darkness arrived.

 

_ ‘Cause we've been on the road so long they can't find us _

_ Who's gonna have to die to remind us _

_ That it feels like we chose this (chose this) blindly _

_ Now I'm gonna fuck up a hotel lobby _

_ ‘Cause these tough _

_ Times they keep comin’ _

_ Last night  _

_ I might have messed it up again _

_ Some days I'm barely breathin’ _

_ But after we were high and the love dope died it was you _

 

“To Dad.”  Dean raised his shot glass of Amber liquor then swallowed it down.  He slammed it back on the table,let go, and slumped in his chair.

 

“To Pamela.”  Sam continued, doing the same, then filling both the shot glasses.  They sat in a moment of silence before Dean reached for the newly poured shot.

 

“To Jo.”  His words slightly choked as he downed it in one swig,

wincing at the burn.  Sam nodded, grabbing his glass.

 

“To Ellen,” he said throwing his own back.

 

They continued down the line.  Remembering those who had fought along side and fallen.  They ignored their own differences for now. Honoring the fallen in the wake of the greater good.  Knowing they would do anything for one another. At any cost.


End file.
